


learn to forget

by Mars_and_Moon



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, No Dialogue, kind of character study, technically canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-12 06:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18005759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mars_and_Moon/pseuds/Mars_and_Moon
Summary: The mission itself was pretty simple.Until it wasn't.





	learn to forget

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Tiếng Việt available: [ảo ảnh nên quên](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18102455) by [thegirl_gcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl_gcat/pseuds/thegirl_gcat)



> i thought of this at midnight and stayed up until two am writing it, because i have that little self control.  
> i don't why i thought of it, but i was sitting there and suddenly i was all like "what if i made klaus/dave even angstier??"
> 
> enjoy

In a very small, almost unknown part of The Commission, there was a group of individuals tasked with missions that most would deem impossible. These missions could often last for weeks, months, or even years. This division was created once someone realized that they couldn't get more then a period of time, instead of an exact date for a case.

More often than not, the very few members of the small sector were filling out paperwork, seeing as few cases required their services, dates were often exact, and missions never need to last long.

When The Handler announced that something fishy was going to happen in 1968--in the center of the Vietnam War nonetheless--it was a semi-violent fight as to who would go.

(Once upon a time, they wouldn't have bothered with a fight, because they all knew exactly who would be going, even if he wasn't technically a part of the division.)

Of course, The Handler knew something like this would happen. They would all scramble to impresses her, or anyone else they thought could remotely sway her decision, with one minor exception: David. The only one of the lot who never complained about the seemingly endless paperwork, who never fought if something came up.

In fact, his mannered personality often gave people reason to question why he was in the division in the first place, and in The Commission as a whole. But The Handler knew while he was calmer than most, he was fully capable of handling anything, or anyone that could get thrown at him. She had seen it herself, when he had first started out in the field.

Which is why, she simply ignored the three others in the room, and met David’s line of vision. His name split from her lips in commanding tone, one that said straight out there would be no room for questioning. He would be gone within the hour, maybe less, with a briefcases in hand and complete freedom to finish off the mission however he saw fit, something that was rarely allowed.

The Handler could never dream up a possibility in which he failed, as the probability of such a thing happening was far too low. Looking back on this day, she should have remembered that humans are far less predictable then math equations. A fact which was annoying to no end.

  
  


The strangest thing David had learned about the war wasn't that nobody seemed to realize they were all fighting a lost cause; it was the fact that even in the all the suffering, people somehow found a few moments of joy, even if it was fleeting.

  
  


David wouldn't lie, it had been a long time since he had interacted with people outside of The Commission. Something which he didn't think had affected him as much as it apparently had. Granted, only talking to people that either killed other people, or made the plans that killed other people wasn’t the greatest thing for one's sanity. But he digressed.

The men he ended up sharing a tent with were kind enough. They showed him the ropes, and he picked it up quickly. The Commission would have never sent someone who wasn’t quick on their feet. He hadn’t left with a background, and he couldn't very well use his real one, so whenever questions were asked David quickly created another piece of whoever this persona was.

Dave, as the other men have taken to calling him, claiming that David makes him sound boring--and according to them, anyone who could assemble a gun in forty seconds, down seven shots of whiskey in one go, and once cussed out a Colonel was not a boring person. The other men also called him kind, which almost made him laugh, seeing as the last time he had been called that was before The Commission, which had been years ago.

But, he couldn’t say he minded being called kind, because the word had never once had an insulting tone behind it. It felt nice, to fall into the persona of Dave.

Dave, who had never killed an innocent person. Dave, who had given meals to complete strangers, even if it meant he didn’t eat that day. Dave, who always stood up for an underdog. Dave, who took a bullet in the arm for someone.

It felt very nice. And maybe, just maybe, once the mission was over, David would carry a few of the traits back with him.

  
  


The buses they took were always far too crowded. He could always feel someone’s breath on his neck, or a gun shoving into his side. It was as if the United States government wasn’t spending millions upon millions of dollars on this war, and yet they can't get any more buses.

That was not what Dave was really pissed off about. It's just easier to blame it on that, especially because he can't talk about the real reason with anyone without sounding like a complete mental case. Not that he would be the only one, he had seen this war break minds already.

He is most definitely _not_ complaining about the wait--it was his job to wait--but it has been three months and absolutely nothing has happened. Dave knew this because he hasn't gotten anything from The Commission about messing up.

They also hadn’t told him exactly who or what he was keeping his eyes open for. He had gotten a simple message when he first arrived, but it only said that he'll know exactly what it is once he sees it. Which is probably true, but obnoxiously vague nonetheless.

It hadn’t even been long, around a month and a half, but Dave still couldn’t help but feel that perhaps this once The Commission had been wrong, nothing weird would happen, everything would go down the way it was supposed to, and this was all some big prank that would probably haunt him for the rest of his life.

(Because no matter how many times he had pulled the trigger on someone, it had never been on someone he actually knew. Someone he liked. Which, yes, he knew that was fucked up logic, but it’s all he had right now.)

Dave groaned internally and attempted to get at least a tad comfortable, a feat that he knew would never happen on the overly full bus. But maybe he could catch a few more minutes of sleep, just a few before there was bullets being fired at him, and the few people he considered his sort-of-friends.

But every thought of sleep had been pushed out of his mind in an instant after he heard a snippet of whatever conversation was being had from the seats behind him.

_"It was weird. Some random guy like, flashed in there with a blue light. Wearing in a towel, and holding a box or something."_

Dave sat up straighter, his eyes darting around quickly, until landing on someone he had never seen before. The man's hair was a mess, and he had a mark going around his throat _(sortofliketortured)._ The latter observation was concerning. He also looked petrified, which honestly Dave couldn't blame him for.

His line of sight fell slightly to underneath the seat, he recognized what the black shape was in an instant: a Commission issued briefcase. Lord only knows how the man had gotten his hands on one, but it didn't matter; this man was Dave’s mission.

Nobody would notice someone dying, it was a war after all. All he had to do was wait for instructions.

 

 

The orders had come in two weeks after Klaus had somehow managed to accidentally find himself in 1968. He saw the three simple words everyone who worked in the field at The Commission had seen before: _Eliminate Klaus Hargreeves._

They had come about two months ago. And technically Dave hadn’t completed them.

Not that he could be bothered to focus on that in the current moment. Most definitely not when he was in a bar, far too drunk and dancing next to Klaus in a way that was not appropriate for this time period.  He kept making excuses to himself, and to The Commission as to why he hadn't fulfilled something that would only take three seconds.

There had never been a proper place, as they hadn’t been on a battlefield in a while. There had yet to be a proper time, one where nobody would be able to tell that it was Dave _(kindselflessdavehonestdavehappyasonecouldbeheredave)_ who pulled the trigger on Klaus. There were always to many people around, they would hear it, or see it. And so on, and so on, and so on.

Dave knew that he was running out of excuses, running out of lies. Ones that were more for him then anyone else _(likewhyhiseyeslingeredwhytheyalwayslingered)_ and soon he would have to actually admit why he was still in an active war-zone when he could have left two months ago.

But now, not tonight. Not when Klaus had somehow manage to find a clothing store that hadn't raised an eyebrow when he went to the women's section. Not when he was dancing like that, close enough for Dave to just reach out and touch _(hedidnthecouldnt)_.

Dave didn’t remember how he ended up near the back of the bar, with Klaus standing so close to him. But he remember how Klaus’s lips felt, how they were chapped, but the hand he grabbed Dave’s face with to pull him closer was soft. And how the other one had sneaked itself onto his hip, and Klaus look so _(beautifuamazingprettylovely)_ even in the bar’s shitty lighting.

Eventually Dave would be back at The Commission, with far more paperwork than he could ever finish, with nothing more than a memory _(oflipsandhandsandmoansand-)_. But not now, not in this moment. Not when he had the real thing in front of him.

  
  


It wasn't that Dave didn't realize he was falling in love with Klaus Hargreeves, he absolutely did, he just couldn't bring himself to care about the consequences.

 

 

One night, after the rest of the camp had fallen asleep, Klaus told him about the briefcase, about how he could hear the dead and their endless screams, about the apocalypse, about his siblings, about the torture, about how he played it off with jokes and sarcasm but everything had _hurt_ , but nothing more then being proven right, that his siblings wouldn’t show up, and after all of that how he needed a hit so badly. Dave had sat there, listening to him. He saw red, violent red towards Hazel and Cha-Cha, towards Klaus’s family because how the hell could they not notice when Klaus _(charminglovingbrokenklaus)_ was missing.

It took every ounce of willpower to not blurt out everything. That he had his own briefcase hidden near the camp, that he was supposed to kill him, supposed to make it look like an accident, that he was supposed to have left this camp months ago. But he didn't, he had sat there and he had listened, seething with every word that made Klaus hate himself.

After finishing, and trying to subtly wipe away the tears that had formed, Klaus sat there in silence, bracing himself for being called crazy _(davewouldneverhewouldratherdie)_ , Dave kissed him. Kissed him until both of their lips felt bruised, until there were hickies that they couldn’t hide _(itwasworthitwouldalwaysbeworthit)_ , and then Dave had held him until the sun started to rise, whispering sweet nothings, whispering how much he loved him, how he didn’t feel alive until he met him. How he needed him, and wanted him and _loved_ him.

  
  


In retrospect, he would later understand that burning all the pieces of paper The Commission sent him--after he had thoroughly rejected the idea of ever harming Klaus--without even looking at them, was the worst idea Dave ever had. And yes, that induces falling for the man he was supposed to kill.

But at the end of it all, he would never trade the murmured, _"I love you" “I need you” “stay with me”,_ for anything.

  
  


Gunfire always seemed louder whenever Klaus was next to him on the front lines.

Maybe it was because Dave could barely focus on firing when the man he loved was next to him, when he could get hurt _(again)_. Maybe it was something else entirety. It hardly mattered to Dave, why it was that way, because he took down anyone whose bullets got a inch to close to Klaus.

(The years of training to be up to The Commission's standards came in handy, he never missed. But the death was always quick, something he hadn’t cared before any of this.)

There is a problem with never focusing on oneself, especially during a storm of bullets. Honestly, Dave saw it before he felt it, he could see who fired the gun too.

If he wasn't busy trying to keep his eyes open and stopping himself from dying, Dave would have found it positively ironic that the person who pulled the trigger on him had never liked him, back when the two of them had worked together at The Commission; hell, she had probably jumped at the chance to kill him.

He could make out Klaus's voice screaming for a medic, one that would never come, because they never did. Not until the after, until those who died could be pronounced dead, and those who lived could be patched up. He felt Klaus grab his hands, he could hear the sobs, they echoed around his head.

Dave wanted nothing more then to reach and grab Klaus, hold him like he did whenever the ghosts were too much, or when the withdrawals had kicked in. He couldn't remember if he had ever told Klaus that he was proud he had gotten sober.

Wait, yes he did. It was the night there had been a shooting star. They had sat on the outskirts of camp, their hands brushing together every now and then. He could remember the smile on Klaus’s face _(andthewayhelaughedandhowbeautifulhewasand-)_ It was a good memory, not the worst one to remember before you died.

Klaus was still screaming _(davewantedtocalmhimdowntotell-)._

Dave couldn't help but think that maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, letting go, closing his eyes. Klaus would be able to see him, and The Commission would never bother him again, they wouldn't have a reason to.

  
  


_(Dave hoped there was no afterlife, he knew there would be no heaven for him, but forever with Klaus, forever just the two of them, he didn't deserve something like that, but a man could hope.)_

  
  


Somewhere in 2019, Dave sees a flicker of Klaus tied up in a chair. Smiling at him like he had placed the stars in the sky. Dave smiles back as he tries to reach out and grab him.

  
  


Somewhere in 2002, Dave watches as Klaus becomes thirteen again, and he can't help but laugh, because damn, he was an adorable kid. In a non-creepy way, he wishes he could take multiple photos.

  
  


Somewhere, in a different 2019--one with no impending apocalypse--Dave is shaking hands in an frankly intimidatingly large man.

And then a man with a scar and a warning speech.

And then a girl with curly hair that can only talk with her hands.

And then an old man who looked like a boy.

And then a man who was actually dead.

And then a girl with the hands of a musician.

(Later on, he and the boy would have a very long and serious conversation. About secrets. About a shared past. About growth. One that would end with both of them feeling better, knowing that there was someone around who understood it.)

But right now, Dave was perfectly content sitting next to the love of his life _(whoisbeautifulandsmilingandperfect)_ in a large living room, eating pizza, and listening to embarrassing stories about the past. With the occasional objection about how it _didn’t happen like that_.  

Right now, everything was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/no-brain-cells-in-the-hargreeves)
> 
> (also: maybe keep an eye out of power swap au fics...... or a sequel to this??)


End file.
